Pretend body modification for self-amusement

I pretend to have holes in my palms that I can pass the opposing thumb clean through like pushing madeleine biscuits into nothing. This fantasy of the frontal lobe opens a new portal to strange finger placements and other ways of greeting people. I am liberated. Why did no-one think of this before?
– The man they nailed to a tree 2000 years ago, my priest says to me, more slowly than he usually speaks over the phone, which is hard for me to hold.
– I’m not the type to see crosses everywhere, I reply, this is pretend body modification for self-amusement, a heavy piercing straight through each palm.
– No sacrifice? he asks.
– No sacrifice, no yearning, no prophecy, no allegory, no ever-lasting symbolism, these holes are exclusive to the present tense.
– No re-birth?
– No, father, because the frontal lobe says the point is to be sinless and sinning, no agency, no regency, no word but words, nothing in stone, just two thumbs pushing through holes in my palms.